NOVPUBThe warehouse burned hot with flame.
The rolling heat surged so wildly that sparks were just about to leap to the surrounding trees and underbrush.
A situation on the verge of developing into a massive fire.
‘Boss... Are you really sure about this?’
Hans, waiting outside, hesitated.
He seriously considered stepping in ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) now—even using the beast power from Jévaudan.
Squeak!
At that moment, a rat squeaked at Hans—someone was rapidly approaching.
“Crap. You lot, hide—now!”
Just as Hans and the swarm of rats hastily hid from view, Casey Selmore arrived on the scene.
“Fire?”
At the sight of the flames, Casey immediately cast water.
But despite dousing the fire, the flames did not go out.
They receded briefly—only to erupt again even more fiercely.
“What kind of fire is this...?”
She instantly spread a broad water barrier around the warehouse perimeter.
The surging fire tried to push outward but was suppressed by the water wall and pulled back.
Casey narrowed her eyes.
‘This isn’t normal fire.’
As she controlled the mana to suppress the fire, she could feel it.
This fire had a will.
And that will was trying to escape and burn down everything in its path.
‘This isn’t from ordinary magic either. Judging by the will infused in these flames... this is at least the level of a Red-class mage.’
If the fire had a will, only one thing came to mind—
A nature spirit that governed fire.
‘A spirit? But spirits don’t use power this vile...’
Since arriving in Rederbelk, Casey had browsed the local papers and caught up on recent events.
In her memory, she recalled an article about a giant of flame appearing at a noble banquet in the city.
Now, with the Black Dawn Order having infiltrated Seorn during the festival...
There was definitely a connection between the two.
‘Professor Ludger Cherish must be inside that warehouse.’
Given where the fire was flaring up, and where he had disappeared—it all pointed there.
‘Just what is happening in there...?’
Casey considered using water to force her way in—but even slightly weakening the barrier would allow the fire to spread uncontrollably.
‘Did that man... anticipate this and call for me?’
Just then, a massive surge of magical power burst from within the burning warehouse.
The fire that had been raging violently collapsed inward as if sucked into a vacuum.
Moments later, thick steam erupted through the collapsed rooftop and walls of the warehouse.
‘Magic? And it’s at least 5th-circle...!’
The furious flames noticeably weakened.
From her position near the barrier, Casey could feel it clearly.
An enormous-scale spell had just been cast inside.
‘What on earth is happening in there?!’
* * *
Ludger’s 6th-circle Grand Spell, [Heaven-Sea Icebreaker], had dealt a meaningful blow to Quasimodo.
But Quasimodo wasn’t defeated so easily.
He gathered the flames of the warehouse around himself, resisting Ludger’s magic.
Hellish, searing fire clashing against the cold ice from the far North Sea.
Their collision unleashed a massive shockwave and a blinding cloud of steam.
Fwoom.
From within that steam, a tiny spark floated into the air.
The spark grew, forming a fireball, which gradually drew in surrounding embers and increased in size.
Arms formed. Legs sprouted. A monstrous figure emerged—an ugly, towering giant of flame.
[Hoo... man.]
Quasimodo was not dead.
Even after a direct hit from such a Grand Spell, he was neither dispelled nor banished—his unfathomable vitality allowed him to regenerate.
That said, the damage was not insignificant—Quasimodo's body had shrunk to nearly half its original size.
But that would change soon.
The flames scattered throughout the warehouse were growing more intense, heat beginning to swell again.
Once the fire was restored, so too would his strength return.
That was the nature of a wraith.
Damage that would take humans days to recover from could be mended in moments.
[Kill.]
Especially for Quasimodo, a wrath wraith burning with rage and hatred as his fuel.
Now, fueled by his burning hatred for Ludger—the one responsible for this situation—he rapidly regenerated.
[I will kill you.]
Quasimodo scanned his surroundings, searching for Ludger.
The lingering steam still obscured his vision, but he knew—
Ludger had not run away.
Tap.
A shadow dashed through the mist. Quasimodo caught sight of it.
He assumed Ludger hadn’t fully recovered and was making a break for it. A mistake.
Grinning wide, Quasimodo hurled a massive fist at the shadow.
[Die!]
Flames flared and spread, striking the shadow dead on.
As he prepared to roar in victory, the clearing mist revealed the truth—and he was stunned.
[Not... human?]
The thing he had burned wasn’t Ludger—but the shadow cloak he had been using.
Ater Nocturnus scattered in tatters from Quasimodo’s blow, but it writhed smugly, as if pleased it had fulfilled its role.
Then... where was Ludger now?
Quasimodo whipped his head toward where Esmeralda lay.
[You—!]
And he saw him.
Holding Esmeralda in his arms, standing firm—Ludger Cherish.
[LUDGER CHERISH!!!]
To Quasimodo’s furious roar, Ludger responded with a cold smirk.
“You’ve finally called me by name, Quasimodo.”
[KRAAAH!]
“But it’s already over.”
Quasimodo, in panic, rushed forward to protect Esmeralda.
Ludger drove a syringe into her neck—already prepared in advance.
[......!]
Quasimodo froze mid-charge.
He gripped his head as though in pain and hunched over.
Ludger let out a breath of relief.
‘No matter how powerful a wraith is—if the summoner suffers a blow, it’s bound to affect them.’
The drug injected into Esmeralda was a type of psychoactive sedative.
Spirit summoners form contracts with spirits and communicate with them.
Since spirits have no physical body, such connections depend on a summoner’s soul—that is, their mind.
No matter how strong the spirit, if the summoner loses consciousness, their power weakens.
‘I didn’t manage to reverse summon it, but this should be enough.’
First, he needed to move the unconscious Esmeralda somewhere out of sight.
Then, he’d find a way to suppress her mind completely and bring only Selina back.
But just then—Esmeralda, who was supposed to be asleep, opened her mouth.
“N-No... don’t.”
“...You’re still conscious?”
As Ludger prepared to ignore her, Esmeralda suddenly clutched his collar.
“What are you doing...?”
“Run. Now. I... I can’t control it anymore.”
“Control?”
He was about to question her words—when suddenly, Ludger felt a chill tingle at the back of his neck.
An animalistic instinct screamed danger.
Before he could even process it, Ludger instinctively drew on his remaining mana and raised a barrier.
THOOM!
A massive fist slammed into the barrier.
It cracked under the force, and the impact reverberated through Ludger’s entire body.
Wincing from the pain, he looked up at the attacker.
“...Quasimodo.”
Just moments ago, the creature had seemed to be in pain—yet now, he grinned with a chilling smile.
[Keh keh keh... too bad.]
As if the agony had been an act, Quasimodo was completely fine.
[I almost killed you.]
“You...”
Only then did Ludger realize something was wrong.
Why was Quasimodo fine?
Why hadn’t Esmeralda—his summoner—lost consciousness?
His confusion didn’t last long.
A strange sensation brushed his cheek—and his hand reacted before his mind could.
Thunk!
He caught Esmeralda’s wrist just before it could strike.
In her slender hand was a sharp dagger.
A second later, and it would’ve pierced him.
“What the hell are you—?”
Ludger started to scold her—but stopped.
Esmeralda was crying.
“No... I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry...”
She mumbled incoherently like someone not in their right mind.
And she wasn’t apologizing to Ludger.
She was looking at... something else.
“Just what is—”
Ludger broke off mid-sentence.
Instead, he focused mana into his eyes and sharpened his vision.
Through the mist, something blurry became clear.
Red threads.
Bright red threads extended from Quasimodo, binding Esmeralda’s wrist—and her entire body.
As if to ensure she never escaped.
As if she were a puppet made to be controlled.
A faint thread drifted through the air... and brushed Ludger’s body.
The moment he became aware of it, Ludger’s vision changed completely.
—I hate you.
The burning village of Roteng.
Esmeralda, weeping in agony... and behind her, Quasimodo.
‘This is... memory storming?’
Ludger watched as though he were there in person, eyes locked on Quasimodo.
At first glance, the creature seemed to be protecting her—but no.
[Fuel your hatred. Hate the humans.]
The truth that conversation magic hadn’t revealed.
The madness and hatred weren’t born from Esmeralda—they had been forced upon her from the very beginning.
The scene changed again.
Esmeralda’s mana revealed her past—specifically, the moment right after her first revenge.
—This is impressive.
A man was there.
A dark night. A full moon rising high behind him.
He wore a mask, hiding his face—but his unmistakable presence gave him away as someone powerful.
—To think someone would actually kill a noble. The Febius family has long been one of our targets, and now we’ve found someone who shares our purpose.
He said that, then slowly shook his head.
—No... not someone. Not a human. Something else entirely.
That man.
